IM Pilot Jane A. Rug
who ascribes to writing poetry
as opportunistic, holistic, and cathartic
warming me body electric
courtesy an outsize
warm brimful coffee mug
I savor and slowly chug.

Toupee piece blew off me bald noggin
with zag and zig
went off for hair raising shindig
donning noggin of villager in Nigg
(historic county of Ross-shire,
historic region of Ross
and Cromarty, northeast
coast of Scotland).

Somehow postiche crossed the big pond
once belonged to magician,
who could create static electricity waving wand
across artificial tresses colored blond,
which wizard in disguise did abscond
with priceless peruke
(archaic word for periwig)
cuz said luxurious locks
once belonged to Dolly Parton.

Though I embellished
and expounded from original
poem still probably not very clear,
nevertheless toil onward if ye dare.

Upon occasion the missus
doth plop squat foursquare
on her plump derriere
brandishes scissors to keep hair
closely cropped to her scalp.

Once upon a time,
not very long ago somewhere
over the rainbow
within the Milky Way Galaxy,
she managed plying
chutzpah, guts and moxie to scare
connive, finagle, inveigle,
et cetera, an unused wig another
tenant at Highland
Manor Apartments here
(Compact, low slung,
and well maintained
dwellings by big booted (size 14)
previous onsite natural marvel
property manager Kevin Bair
him with shiny pate,
the former onsite jack (jilted)
of all trades handyman balladeer
crooning of Jen Tra Fide
units made like new
for those in despair
battling a crisis, and experiencing
little salvation on broken wing and prayer
low cost affordable renting facilities
though not by a near
and/or far cry ritzy as
luxury places named Bel Air,
but energy efficient air
tight, quieter than a cemetary).

Anyway, zee spouse I dare
say casts a shadow clear
the size of Rhode Island,
and chanced to acquire
ratty noggin head gear,
she did need toupee joost a dime,
and quickly realized shear
hideousness, sans "FAKE" hirsute
wig required ample
tender loving care,
thus she betook

what closely resembled
skinned hide of a distant forebear,
(or perhaps def leppard)
to Liberty thrift store,
but encountered manic tear
roar (cue Katy Perry), when enroute,
to said rectilinear
structure, out car window flew wig
landing inaccessible risking life or limb
mighty size wife easily deflected career
ring vehicles (imagine

mini measle lee Andre the Giant)
despite drivers abruptly halting to stare
as pint size super woman
gingerly didst ensnare
tire worn and tread full sorry excuse
for those claiming going bald unfair
even if renaming opposite
of being hirsute male/female
pattern receding hairline
all the way back to nape of neck.

Interesting how odd
distribution of atavistic fur
witnesses enough coily kinks
donning nether regions of body
flowing to ground within a year.